


if i swallow anything evil

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [62]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk decides to help a friend in need and uncovers several uncomfortable truths. </p><p>Takes place during "half hope half agony".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when my fist clenches, crack it open

**== >Dirk: Do a favor**

You stop talking to Terezi because you’re (one) irritated and (two) being nagged by your conscience. You should have no obligation to talk to Kankri. You hate dealing with Kankri. He’s obnoxious and never knows when to shut up. He thinks lecturing people to death is the best solution than actually doing something. Kankri’s father wasn’t a hundred percent right about Kankri’s behavior or motivations but he was on point about him being cowardly.

You sigh and bury your hands in your face.

That’s not fair to Kankri though. His father had a heavily biased opinion of him and Alternians didn’t have a proper concept of depression and anxiety. His father’s neglect was what drove Kankri to crave attention. His death broke Kankri emotionally. Is the lack of personal strength really his fault?

On the other hand, you still can’t develop true sympathy towards Kankri. Taking in his child is more a favor for Terezi and Jake than for Kankri. You really don’t give a fuck about him.

You groan, not liking this debate. You long for the days of just marching into a situation with clear goals in mind. Shoot A. Interrogate B. Grab C. Return to Point D. Be praised for a job well done and then repeat.

Jake walks into the bedroom and smirks. “Oh, I know that look. That’s the look of someone who has to do something they hate.”

You scowl at your husband. “You know me too well. I’m starting to speculate that you have spy cameras.”

Jake laughs and sits next to you. “I don’t need spy cameras when I have _love_ to inform me of my husband’s moodiness.”

“That is possibly the geekiest thing I have ever heard you say.” You’re glad to have Jake back to his dorky self. He’d been tense in the days before the funeral. Getting out of the trailer and into the open air of South New Jack really helped him out of the mood.

“I’d like to think you married me for my geekiness,” He smirks, “ _and_ my muscles and superior display of fisticuffs.”

“The muscles were only thirty percent contribution to the proposal.” you insist.

“I doubt it contributed _that_ little.”

You kiss him and turn away. “I’m heading out. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Jake’s arm snakes around your waist and refuses to let you go. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Why?”

“ _Because_ ”—Jake’s lips are on your neck and you gently try to push him away—“I can’t stay here inside with you all day like you want, you lazy aristocrat!”

“I am the exact _opposite_ of lazy, love.” Jake insists and refuses to be moved. “Where do you have to go so urgently? We’re taking a break from work and I’ve been working on helping Dave with his shooting. We should be allowed to have our fun too. Being an adult shouldn’t be all boredom.”

“And what exactly is your solution to ‘boredom’, Mr. English? Screwing until neither of us can move?” You try to wrestle out of his grip but Jake stubbornly pulls you closer because he’s a caring asshole.

“No.” Jake says quietly. “Dirk, these days I rarely see you. You’re either out or you’re on your own with this… _look_ in your eye. I don’t want you to do anything drastic, or blame _yourself_ for what happened.”

You shake your head. “Dirk, I’m made of stronger stuff than you—”

“No, you’re not.” Jake says. “I know Trussians like to pretend they’re made of cement and can suffer any blow but I know you’re not like that. You internalize everything that hurts you and take it out on yourself. You go…you turn _cold,_ Dirk, when something hurts you and you become like—”

“A machine?”

Jake looks away. “Not like yourself _._ Don’t you remember how things were when we first met? You held everyone at arm’s length and…I _love_ you, Dirk. I don’t want you turn away from me, especially with how scared people are now.”  

“The Cherubs don’t scare me.”

“I didn’t say they do but you have the look of someone with a grudge.”

You can’t pretend you _don’t_ have grudges. The Cherubs are split into various confederacies but they all answer to one man and their mutual goals caused Sawtooth’s death.

“We all have our grudges,” you say, “but I’m not concerned with it. Terezi wants me to check on Kankri. She’s afraid he’s going to hurt himself or backslide.”

Jake immediately lets go. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He pauses. “Do you think he’ll backslide?”

“There’s always a risk to do so, even though he’s been sober for a while now.” You say.

Jake nods. “True. I had a few ‘backslides’ when I came to this country.”

“I thought you said there was no sweet juju in New Jack at the time?”

“Oh, that’s true, love, but that doesn’t mean I immediately went on the straight and narrow. I tried smoking and drinking but couldn’t afford such a habit for long. Taking care of Grandma weaned me off of a lot of bad habits but it took time. That and you never really stop _wanting_ juju. You just…” He shrugs. “…learn to do without. Kankri hasn’t even been sober for a year now.”

“I know.” That’s what worries you. What was the exact cause of him backsliding all those times before? Terezi and Kankri like to think it’s because he didn’t feel enough affection to hold on but you doubt that.

“I hope he’s alright.”

“I hope so too. That’s why I’m going to check on him.”

Jake nods and lets you leave. You’re sure he’ll find a way to preoccupy himself. He’s always resourceful when it comes to his amusement.

The truck is too recognizable for what you want to do. You go to Weatherborn Lane and to the safe house, which always has a rotating inventory of cars. You need something inconspicuous but in order to get one, you have to talk to one of the monitors.

Natryosha is in the front yard tending to the kohlrabi. You always thought Natryosha would be a jadeblood if she had been a troll with how she tended to her plants. You approach her slowly. “Where’s your son?” you ask in Trussian.

“Kindergarten.” she replies in Trussian.

“I thought you refused to put him in the New Jack school system?”

“I did refuse but I realized that he is a growing boy and should be with the local children.” Natryosha replies, “The city has decreased their funding toward the schools. It is too costly for them to build separate buildings and hire separate teachers for young trolls and humans. Although the conservatives hate it, economics have made the decision for them. In the next year, they will begin merging the schools. Trolls and humans will no longer be separate in the education system.”

You’re not fond of that decision, for several reasons. “Trolls and humans develop differently. They’re a lot to handle and New Jack teachers don’t know what they’re doing. It’ll be overwhelming for them.”

“It is like these leaves.” Natryosha yanks a snail off a kohlrabi leaf and plops it in a jar next to her. She picks a leaf off and holds it up. “The leaves are green and perfect.” She digs her fingers into the soil and pushes away the dirt so you can see the growing mound. The typically lime-green vegetable is flecked with red and purple splotches. “But underneath and internally, it is changed, but no one cares because they do not see it.” She covers the kohlrabi back up. “The city politicians do not care about New Jack. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Sawtooth is dead. There’s no reason for you to lecture like him.”

Natryosha pauses. Then she stands and looks at you. “Someone may be physically gone but their influences are not.”

“You would go back to Trussia if you could.” It is a struggle to keep the anger out of your voice. “You would crawl to them and be a soldier again if you could.”

Natryosha slowly blinks. “And you would not? Do you hate your country of origin now?”

“My country of origin is not _me._ ” You say and you’re shaking because you’re unearthing complicated feelings you’ve long since buried. “The government took us from that place but they didn’t improve our lives. They hammered out childhood and turned us into little machines. Of course you’ll never _see_ it that way. No one ever sees it that way because loyalty’s been drilled into our heads like a piece of wood to a wall.”

Natryosha tilts her head. You were taught from a young age to wear a mask around outsiders. Whether it was goofy, overconfident, scowling, or grinning, the mask always stayed in place. But when you two are alone and you don’t bother with masks. Natryosha’s true face is like yours: empty and observing everything.  

“If you needed something from me, you should just say it, Dirk,” she says, “as opposed to trying to fight with me about the past. You don’t bicker with Oksana or Sergei like this. Why single me out?”

Its not like Natryosha to skip the head games Oksana and her love. Something else must be troubling her. “What happened?” you ask softly.

Natryosha’s eyes narrow. “The Lalonde girl is not in a favorable condition and there’s little I can do about it. She heard about the death of her friend’s grandfather and blames herself. At first she exhibited the common signs of guilt but as I observed her, I noticed her hair was breaking off with daily brushing. Now its freely falling out.”

You inhale sharply. Rose didn’t pride herself on her hair like a Shongolian noblewoman but she still indulged in it. Having a sizable bald patch must come as a shock. “I assume you’re helping.”

“As best as I can.”

You nod. This can’t be easy for Natryosha. She had tried to comfort Squarewave after the mission failure by herself. “I need to borrow a car.” You say, getting to the point.

Natryosha nods. “Feel free to do so.” She searches in her pockets and tosses keys at you. “Just return it in one piece.”

You take an average appearing car and head downtown. You know Kankri works at the Central Library downtown, which is near the Starboons Dave works at and the New Jack Civic Center. You travel though downtown a lot (often resisting the temptation to walk into Starboons and embarrass Dave).

When you get to the library, Kankri isn’t there stacking books or helping patrons. You don’t know where he is so you look for one of Sergei’s contacts. Sergei’s spy network is scattered across the city in the positions of vagrants, garbage men, janitors, car washers, gas station attendants, and other lowly workers. You aren’t sure how many of them are true homeless in the need of quick cash or part of the Trussian mafia.

You locate a contact sitting in the young adult section, thumbing through a Trussian edition of _The Mutantblood Manifesto._ You sit across from him and ask in Trussian, “Where is your appetite?”

“It comes with eating.” answers the homeless man, not looking up from his book.

One of the signifiers for a contact is if they’re reading a book in Trussian but you always have to check, as plenty of immigrants frequent the library.  “Did Kankri Vantas come here to work today?”

 _“_ No. One of the librarians mentioned that he called in sick.”

“What time did he call in?”

“Earlier today. Others were grumbling about it. It was from a cellphone and they mentioned it sounded ‘static-filled’.”

You nod and offer the homeless man five boons for the information.

Kankri typically takes the bus to work to save on fuel. If he called from a cellphone, that means he must have stopped on the way to work. If the message was static-filled, that means he was in an area lacking good reception. You go to the library entrance and find the bus route pamphlets. They’re always in stock as the Central Library is on a main bus route.

You look at the pamphlets trying to discern which route goes from the trailer park to downtown. Kankri wouldn’t be willing to get off at the Red Quad or the Strip. Past encounters would make him wary of those places. If he was feeling angry or vulnerable, he would go someplace where he could be alone or at least ignored by the locals.

You locate the route and leave the library. You need to move quickly to make sure Kankri is still there.

Along the northeastern edge of Fairmont Shoppes is part of the massive levee that encircles the Ninth Ward. People gather there to fish or stare into the rippling waters of the bay. It’s a chore to get to Fairmont Shoppes, drive to Hive Depot, make sure to park in the far east quadrant of the huge parking lot, and walk up along the levee slope. You scan the area and see people have climbed over to the other—muddier—side of the levee. Teenagers fish at the bottom of the grassy slope. Unsupervised children (which may or may not belong to them) roughhouse in the mud. Scavenger vagrants root through the garbage washing up on the levee’s muddy shore to find valuables. Grimy beer bottles and soda cans are dug out of the muck and placed into garbage bags, while others search through metal trash bins and yank out car parts to judge the resale value.

Amongst them all, an older mutantbloods sits on a grassy slope and stares out at the water. He clutches a brown paper bag. You walk over to him.  

“What’s in the bag, Kankri?” you ask.

Kankri doesn’t look at you.

“Kankri,” you say, more firmly, “give me to the bag.”

Kankri surrenders the bag without a fight, without looking at you. There’s only a can of Pabst inside. Its smeared with fingerprints, which means Kankri touched it but didn’t open it. You clench your teeth to bite back the screaming. You can’t scream. Screaming won’t help.  

“What are you doing, Kankri?” you ask, “You skipped on work to buy beer? _Please_ explain to me your reason for doing so.” You can’t really keep the anger out of your voice and Kankri doesn’t answer. You take another deep breath. “I’m only here because Terezi was worried about you. Apparently she thinks we’re ‘friends’.”

Kankri snorts. “You could only be ‘friends’ with a machine.”

That comments gets under your skin and breaks your calm façade, along with any motivation to be gentle with him.

“Listen here, you _fat fuck_.” you say, “For years, I didn’t interfere with you. I watched you act like a drunken _moron_ and your father put up with it for Karkat’s sake. Then your father _died_ and you didn’t step up to the fucking _plate_. You _abused_ your son. I had to _ignore_ the fact that Karkat had _bruises_ on him because Cronus promised he was dealing with it. Well, he fucking _wasn’t_! Cronus dealt with you as well as a clown deals with Faygo, booze, and hookers!”

Kankri glares at you. “Cronus did the best he could. You know what a state I was in after Dualscar—”

“I don’t _give a shit!_ ” you snap, “It wasn’t Dualscar’s assault that held you back! _You’re_ the only reason that you were held back because you refuse to fight for yourself!”

Kankri snarls and its not a typical irritated growl. This is challenge with teeth and rage in his eyes. He lunges at you and your back hits the ground. He grabs your throat and looks down at you with shrunken pupils. He gnashes his fangs, like any true predator.

You are staring into the face of Highblood Kankri.

“I should kill you.” He hisses, “I should kill you and never let them find your fucking body, Strider.”

Highblood Kankri doesn’t sound like the Signless. There’s no melodic undertone to his threats that come from a natural orator. This is a creature who enacts the threats it makes; a creature born in violence and raised in the oncoming slaughter.  

And you understand what has happened to Kankri.

However, you can’t tell Kankri your revelation if you let him strangle you. His grip is increasing and Jake will raise a fuss if you go home with bruises on your throat.

“Kankri, listen to me.” you croak, “You’re a mutantblood. It’s a fact you’re going to have visions but nothing is written in stone about where they come from. The visions are genetic memories, but you’re not a full mutantblood like Karkat. Your father is…”

You don’t have to finish the thought. A shudder ripples through Kankri and he releases you. He falls back, stunned.

You sit up and rub your aching throat. “Your father is the Grand Highblood.  You have _his_ memories in your head. That’s why they’re so chaotic and violent. That’s _his head_.”

Kankri sits up slowly but remains silent. He looks at the bay as an ACV glides across the waters. 

“I can’t stop them.” You barely hear his voice over the sound of the ACV and the wind rushing over the bay. “I can’t stop the visions or the nightmares anymore. Everywhere I look I see and hear violence. I either taste blood or my own fear and I can’t _control_ it anymore. I can’t control the violence or hold back the fear or my… _anger_.”

“You _can_ control your anger.” You walk over and sit next to him. “You’ve always made the mistake of ignoring your anger and hoping it goes away. Well it can’t, Kankri. It’s a part of you. You have to use it, acknowledge it, understand it, but don’t let it _rule_ you. Someone will only get hurt if you let your anger have free reign.”

“Could I do that? Could I control the monster?” He’s asking himself more than you.

“If you have enough discipline in you to sober up after years of alcoholism, to love again after year of abuse, to have a family after so much loss, then you can do _this_.”

Kankri’s eyes narrow. He looks at you. “Why are you even bothering? I hate you and you hate me. I don’t like being _near_ you.”

“I don’t like you either. You’re an idiot who gets away with too much and if I were Karkat, I would _never_ want to see you again,” You say, icily, “but I have no interest in seeing you fail because if you fail this time, there’s no way you’re coming back.”

“Because of Karkat,” He grumbles, “or for my father or for some stupid ideals that the Trussian mafia has.”

“Those have nothing to do with you!” you yell, “Why is it impossible for you to understand that I want to see you well for _yourself_ and _not_ for anyone else?”

“Because you…I…”

Kankri stops stammering and stares at you.

Then he grabs you and pulls you into a kiss.

 

 

Your mind goes blank. You’re not confronted by guilt or wrongness, just a searing white of “What in the fuck?” as Kankri’s lips press against yours. They’re softer than you thought they would be and he’s not as a clumsy kisser as you thought. You’re definitely not complaining.

You dig your fingers into his shoulder. You should push him away but his skin is so warm and welcoming and its been _so_ _long_ since you were kissed like this.  

Then you remind yourself that this is a _huge fucking mistake_ and push him away.

“ _No_!” you say sharply. “Fuck you, Kankri! I already told you fucking ‘no’ to…to the…the _idea_ of this!”

Kankri’s face is bright red. “I know you said ‘no’! It was…a-a spur of the moment thing!”

“ _I am fucking married, Kankri_!” you insist, “Kissing a married person should be like…the most triggering thing in the world to you and you fucking did it anyways!”

“Don’t you _dare_ say this is a triggering situation when you were leading me on.” Kankri growls, “You were raised around and by trolls, Dirk. You _know_ your actions would constitute as black flirtation. Don’t even _pretend_ to play innocent.”

The heat rises to your face. “You have a kismesis, Kankri, or do you just forget about Kurloz when its convenient? We’re grown men, not fucking rabbits.”

Kankri looks away, face still red. You take a deep breath and count backwards in Old Alternian so you can collect your thoughts.

“Just because it comes off as flirtation doesn’t mean we have to act on it.” you say, “Just because we have certain… _feelings_ …doesn’t mean we act on it.”

“So we should just ignore how we feel toward each other?”

“ _Yes_!” You hold up your hand, showing your tattooed ring finger. “I have one person for me and _only_ that person. You can have two or three or four people for _you_ and that’s fine, but I need only one. Having two or more is…is not the thing for me.”

“I think you’re lying,” Kankri sneers, “I think you _could_ have multiple people in your life. The only reason you’re refusing is because you don’t understand how more than one person could love you.”

“I am refusing because I made a promise to Jake.”

“And what if he says different?”

“He won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Because there is no way in hell you’re telling him about this. “Let’s just go.” you sigh.

“Go where?” Kankri grumbles.

“The Railway.” You need to relax and maybe you can use Sergei to buffer Kankri’s advances.

That and you can’t go home and smile in Jake’s face after this.

You drive Kankri and you wish the trip was in silence. Instead, Kankri and you spend the drive fussing at each other. Kankri keeps changing your radio stations to NPR and you keep changing it back to music. You doubt Kurloz has to put up with this shit.

The Railway isn’t crowded in the late morning. Most of the employees are cooking for the dinner rush. Sergei sits in a booth reading a Trussian newspaper.

When you enter the bar, Kankri looks around. “So _this_ is where my father and you went all the time.”

“Not _all_ the time.” you say.

Sergei looks up at you and smiles. “Strider. I see you brought the other Vantas.”

“Kankri, this is Sergei Vantas. He owns the bar.” You say.

Kankri and Sergei stare at each other. Then Kankri politely nods. “Nice to meet you. _Other_ Vantas.”

“Oh, the same. _Second_ Vantas.” Sergei says cordially.

“You have a very nice bar here. Very clean.” Kankri says.

“Yes, I maintain it well and make sure the customers don’t get too tipsy, as I’m sure you have a previous knowledge of.”

“Well I’m sure getting a little tipsy is the only option given the quality of the food you serve. What brand of vodka is that, or did you make it yourself?”

“I’d let you observe but I know your difficulties. Kankri. You look tired. Would you like to sit down?”

“I’m more than willing to sit and keep your company since no one else apparently is.”

Behind those overly polite words are two mutantbloods who platonically hate each other. Shit, have they met before? You had no idea but its too late to back out now. You sit at the booth across from Sergei (with Kankri pressed against you) and privately hope Sergei doesn’t bring up your past relationship in front of Kankri.

Twenty minutes later, that hope is destroyed.

“So you two used to _date_?” Kankri snickers, “How _interesting_.”

“ _Oh_ _yes_.” Sergei giggles. “We were in _quite_ the torrid relationship.”

“It was not ‘torrid’. We were _children_.” You say, mortified, “Can we talk about something else? I would rather be talking about cancer than this. I would rather be talking about children _with_ cancer of the eyeballs than this.”

“Dirk always thinks we were children but we were more teenagers,” Sergei says, “and we broke up quickly as you’d expect with teenagers.”

“You cheated on me.” you growl.

“As I’ve explained time and time again, I was on my heat cycle,” Sergei sighs, “You never understood that my heat cycle has needs you couldn’t satisfy.”

“Yes, and that’s why I don’t date trolls.” you insist, glaring at Kankri’s smug smile.

“Dave has a better grasp on troll behavior than you do, Dirk.” Kankri says. “Maybe you should talk with him about managing troll lovers?”

“I have no interest in doing that.” you grumble. “Not everyone is attracted to trolls. You’re _not_ irresistible.”

“Has your adorable husband ever resisted a troll?” Sergei asks.

You scowl at him because (one) you’re not sure and (two) its _Jake_. His list of what he finds attractive is lengthy and he rarely ignores his aroused impulses. It’s the remainders of being a spoiled rich boy.

Kankri answers for you with a loud laugh. “As if he hasn’t! Have you ever _met_ Jake?”

“No, as Dirk _refuses_ to introduce us.”

“I wonder why _that_ could be.” Kankri taps his chin, pretending to be thoughtful and enjoying your torment. “Dirk, don’t tell me you’re _embarrassed_ about your husband and your ex meeting.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Sergei and Jake are both rambunctious and easily excited. It’d be like a hurricane colliding with an erupting volcano.

“Of _course_ you’re not.” Kankri says sweetly and you really want to hit him in the jaw for saying it like that. Kankri turns his attention back to Sergei. “So, Sergei, I see you’re still as blatant as usual about being from Trussia.”

Sergei stares at Kankri and calmly sips from his mug. People always assume its vodka but you know Sergei doesn’t have a high alcohol tolerance. “Blatant?”

“With how you behave.” Kankri’s smile widens. “Karkat’s told me about you. That ‘hilarious foreigner’ act may work on some people but it doesn’t work that well on the careful observer.”

Sergei doesn’t respond. He stares at Kankri and Kankri stares back, neither yielding. You look at them both, open your mouth, and then shut it. This is a dominance struggle between two trolls who view themselves as in charge of their groups. To interfere would only make things worse. So you sit and watch the two trolls glare at each other.

Sergei nods and puts the mug down. He stands. “Would you like to see how we run the rest of the bar?”

Kankri nods curtly and stands. “Of course.”

Kankri and Sergei leave the booth, heading to the back stairs. You don’t follow and you anxiously tap your fingers on the table. You’ll have to wait and hope a fight doesn’t break out.  


	2. when i smile, tell me some bad news

**== >Dirk: Be Kankri**

 

The upstairs isn’t a surprise since the building is a refurbished tenement. You can see the lines of dirt where old walls were knocked down or objects moved. The walls are a mix of plaster and bare brick.

“So who do you take in?” you ask, casually. You known Trussian is the language of choice here but you don’t trust your grammar. You’ve gone years without speaking or reading it.

Sergei shrugs. “Anyone who needs it.”

He sits on a wooden bench in an alcove that looks suspiciously similar to the ones you’ve seen at Summoner Park, although painted a different color. The hallway is empty and under your feet you hear the clatter of employees. Most of the conversation is Trussian and English. You sit next to Sergei civilly and silently, equally sizing the other up.

“What is the real reason you came here?” Sergei asks.

“I know you’ve welcomed Karkat into your fold.” You say.

“He came to us and why not?” Sergei says, eyes narrowed. “We helped him in his time of need. We employed him, trained him, and although we tried to wave him off the path he still wished to join with us. Who are we to deny him?”

“You had no wish to deny him in the first place.” you say, “You know who his true father is. You know what his presence means to Meliak. Yes, I know his real name. I refuse to use idiotic titles.” You add when you see Sergei’s face go from neutral to annoyance. “You know what happened between my father and Meliak.”

“What happened is none of my business. The Lobster saw no reason to turn him away and _neither do I_.”

“My father would have never approved of this. You exploit your own people just like the Brotherhood. If my father was alive—”

“ _He is dead, Kankri._ ” Sergei hisses and his smooth as silk words turn jagged. “His heart stopped beating long ago and his body is food for the worms. Who will be our champion now that he is gone? _You_? You fear action. You struggle in your anger and live a life of desperation. _You_ will _never_ be _anyone’s_ champion. Your role was to _give_ us a champion. Someone who was _harder_ than you. Someone who could soldier through the shit and knives that the world throws at them, and he would stand and rise and be just as _glorious_ as his father.”

You get your bearings back and show him the edge of your sharp teeth. You may not be as strong as Sergei but you refuse to defer to him. “Karkat is not your fated leader. He’s not _anyone’s_ savior. He’s a just another mutantblood on this planet with quadrants and children to take care of like the rest of us. Let him have that. Let Karkat live a normal life free of crime and your schemes. Let Karkat be another troll and not have him buckle under the pressures you would slough on him.”

“What right do you have to demand this, Kankri? You laid the egg but you didn’t care for it. Karkat was raised by everyone else but _you_. We rescued him when you could do _nothing_. He belongs to _us_ more than _you_.”

“You don’t think I _know_ that?” you growl, your patience loosening. “I have every right to speak not just for Karkat but for my father. My father loved Trussia and _hated_ how organized crime ruined not only _it_ , but his hope that mutantbloods would be free of exploitation. I’ve only met you _twice_ Sergei and I know your kind: a fanatic and a mindless drone. You never comprehend your orders. You just enact them. At least Dirk _questions_ what he is told. To you, this is still the battlefield in some murky war. Well this isn’t _war_! Its not even fucking _espionage_! You are criminal and this is my son’s life you are toying with and I will _not_ be _fucking_ _silent_ and let Meliak and you turn my son into your slave!”

Sergei blinks and you can tell he didn’t expect the anger behind your words. You see rage briefly wash over his face before its replaced with calm.

“You will have difficulty convincing Karkat otherwise,” he says coolly, “With all your lies, who’s to say he’ll believe you? Karkat is a part of us now and there is no turning back. It has always been our duty to the true descendants of the Sufferer, even a worthless thing like _you_. _That_ is our prerogative. Why do you think Capone has not taken _you_ in the night? Why do you think clowns do not stalk or harass _you_?”

The blood drains from your face. Sergei leans over you.

“Did you never question why a mutantblood could walk around New Jack City drunk and not be raped, mugged, or abducted? Did you never question why you were able to stay financially afloat in that shitty trailer when you never worked? Why a drunken lout has a well paying job as a desk jockey? Why your articles are being noticed? Why Dirk allowed Karkat in his home in the _first_ _place_?”

You don’t respond. This is a psychological trick of his. Your father told you a long time ago that no matter the origin, organized crime groups always manipulate people.

“We have _always_ been here for you.” Sergei continues, “Before his death, he came to Meliak and asked a favor. He told us to protect you both because you were a useless fat ass and Karkat was a child. He didn’t want Karkat to starve in the future so he left him enough money to make him a rich man. Karkat had to be provided for because you are and will always be a _miserable failure_.”

You cower from him and you hate it. You hate him, his words, but most of all you hate yourself. You hate yourself more than you ever hated Kurloz or Dirk. Your vascular pump stirs with sudden darkness and you lash out before you can reel the emotions back in.

Sergei is ready for a struggle though. You’re still smaller than him but your bites are more powerful as you have your father’s teeth and jaw. You attack like an animal but Sergei fights like a man. You both get bruised and scraped but then Sergei knees you in the stomach. You drop to the ground, gasping and feeling your stomach cramp. You look up at him snarling but you yield.

You scramble off the floor and leave the hall, returning to the bar. Dirk is watching the news and when he sees you both, he stands.

“Well, _this_ was an eventful visit. We should definitely get going.” he says.

You nod. “Agreed.” You smile at Sergei. “It was nice meeting you.”

Sergei returns the smile. “Same to you.”

You leave the Railway and inside Dirk’s car you study your face in the mirror. Your eye is starting to black and there are plenty of bruises along your neck and arms. You’re aching but it could’ve been worse.

“You want an ice pack for that?” Dirk asks. 

“I don’t need it. Just drive.” You sigh.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, as long as its not park. I need…” You sink in your seat.

You shut your eyes and listen to the car run. Going on noise alone, the car leaves the loud crowded noises of downtown and passes across the crying seagulls and crashing waves of the interstate bridge. You try to think calming thoughts but Sergei’s words roll in your skull like a marble in a maze, bumping into every structure representing the truth.

Your stomach pitches but its empty so trying to alarm you is pointless. Just your asshole body responding to your own anxieties. 

“Dirk…” You say quietly, opening your eyes. “Dirk, please stop the car.”

You’re such a fucking weakling that you need the car stopped because you feel like you’re going to pass out. The car is on the interstate, passing by the blocky decaying slums of Aniline End and coming to the edge of South New Jack. Dirk gets off at an exit and pulls over at an abandoned ethanol station. You stagger from the car, walking across the cracked pavement. A flat scrubland surrounds the station and in the distance you see the mountains and thick forests.

You walk four feet into the scrubland and sit in the open space. You take a deep breath and shut your eyes. You listen to the whine of the insects and the chirping of the birds and try to blot out your thoughts. Behind you, Dirk gets out the car and approaches. He’s not going to ask what’s wrong until you’re ready to talk. He’s an indecisive human fuck that flips between challenging you and treating you like a grub.

And you’re an indecisive troll fuck.

“Is it true?” you ask, not looking at him.

“I need a subject to answer your question.” Dirk replies.

You swallow the growing pain in your chest. “Is it true that everything I’ve achieved so far was set up by my father? That the reason I have my job, that I was safe from harm, that my articles were _n-noticed…_ was because my _father_ asked the Trussians to protect us?”

Dirk exhales significantly. He moves in front of you and squats so you’re at eye level.

“The Signless was always concerned for your safety after you escaped Capone,” says Dirk, “so he used his connections to pull some strings. He spoke to several gangs. I don’t know what he said, but from then on particular gangs swore fealty to protect you from harm. One of these gangs was the Trussians.”

“He did that…for _me_?” Tears drip from your eyes. “Not for Karkat?”

Dirk’s head bows. “When Karkat hatched, he insured the same protections would go to him. Your children are not under the protection, Kankri, but Karkat’s are. If Karkat is ever in mortal danger, the Trussians and others are sworn to his aid.”

“Is this pledge why you took Karkat into your home?”

“No. I…” Dirk frowns. “When the Signless died, those of us who took the pledge knew we couldn’t forsake it. We didn’t know what would happen to you but we hesitated to separate you from Karkat because of your…mental condition. It is the same reason the Signless did not take Karkat out of your custody. Cronus was also attached to Karkat so we placed protections in the neighborhood and observed you. If you were drunk and dangerous, Karkat would always have a place to stay. If Karkat was alone at a playground, someone was watching him. If Karkat was in school and being harassed, there was always someone to interfere or to report what was going on.” Dirk sighs. “Of course no system is perfect. As Karkat became older, we relaxed our grip. I relied on second hand information to judge his condition. I made a misstep in my observations and thus the abduction took place.”

“Second hand information. You mean Dave. Dave and Karkat have been going to school since they were small and they live in the same neighborhood. You made sure Dave and Karkat became friends.”

“I wanted them to be aware of each other but I couldn’t have predicted their current relationship. I _was_ relieved that Karkat remained in my custody—for lack of a better term—when you were attacked. That way I could keep a better eye on him. I also relied on information from other trolls at the school or from other informational delegates.”

You frown. “Spies.”

Dirk rubs his chin. “Your words, not mine.”

“So what about my articles and job?”

Dirk snorts but there’s a good-natured smile on his face. You can’t remember the last time you saw him smile. “Oh please, Kankri. Is it so difficult to believe that you have your own merits? Even if the Trussians wanted to control what people read, they can’t control what they _like._ And you were hired because the library needed someone with your skills. That’s it.”

You frown. “It is a little hard to believe…but why would Sergei lie to me?”

Dirk shrugs.

“Sergei blames you for what happened to Karkat and considers you a waste of space and genetic material because you’re nothing like your father.” he says. “You are you and Karkat is Karkat. Its perfectly alright to be yourself but”—Dirk rolls his eyes—“for Trussians, its a concept they fail to grasp. Your father had such a big impact on them and their culture that they’re always waiting for another revolutionary savior to come along.”

“So what about you? You’re a Trussian, but you’re not one of them? What exactly _are_ you? You hang out in a Trussian bar and eat Trussian food and know a lot about gangs. My father hated organized crime and its system of exploitation but he never broke off ties with you like he did with Meliak. Why?”

“I’m…not _exactly_ part of the gang, or any gang.” Dirk hesitates. “I’m more of a neutral third party business associate. I get hired for different purposes or negotiations, I do my job, I get paid, and have no attachments.”

You smirk. “You’re a mercenary.” 

“I prefer private security contractor.”

“So who is your _real_ boss?”

“I have never met them or learned their real identity, so it doesn’t matter.”

Why would your father conscript mercenaries? Did he know the leader? “So why protect Karkat with the Trussians?”

“In order to secure the pledge, my group was split into two parts. One half was ‘loaned’ to the New Jack gangs that had agreed to the pledge. The other half was hidden amongst antagonistic gangs as spies. These two groups interact with each other in an information web with members of the pledge. Of course only the heads of the gangs know of the pledge and are not permitted to acknowledge the pledge unless it is with knowing members. My group is autonomous. We maintain the pledge, check on Karkat and yourself, but have no loyalty to the gangs we are placed in.”

“Why were you given to the Trussians?”

“Each gang was allowed to petition for selective members of my group so that we would blend in. After all, you can’t have a human in an all-troll gang and so on. The Trussians do not trust outsiders so the operative had to have a Trussian background. I was a Trussian so they took me.”

“So you’re an honorary member?”

“My role is to look like a member of the inner circle while not actually being one. I’m still an outsider because I serve a different purpose. I’m allowed to ‘opt out’ of tasks since my role is protecting the pledge, not the Trussians. I still do favors for them in exchange for my own. Meliak is not fond of me. He only delivers messages to me through Sergei and I will never be as ‘friendly’ with Meliak as Sergei is.”

“Because Meliak is doing him the favor of fucking him.” you snort.

Dirk sighs. “I think Sergei dislikes you because he envies you. You were part of the Brotherhood, had eggs, and gave them away. You had Karkat and neglected him. Sergei can’t have that and it angers him. Its why the egg trade offends him so much.”

“I would’ve thought Sergei had children by now.”

“Sergei’s body can’t handle reproduction. Some cloned lineages still treat pregnancy like a parasite and cause miscarriages and gestation failures. I arranged for Meliak and Sergei to adopt Karcin. Of course Meliak hated owing _me_ a favor but he wanted an heir. I didn’t do it for him though. Sergei is my brother. I wanted to help him after he survived a very bad miscarriage. I’ll spare you the details but he was in the hospital for weeks.”

“Now I feel bad for quarreling with him. Losing a child is…painful.” Your chest hurts but you can’t dwell on lost children now. “So the favor you did for Meliak is why you can protect Rose from the Cherubs, but can’t go to war with them.”

Dirk nods. “My hands are tied until they move.”

You both sit on the dry grass in silence, watching the sun move across the sky. Cars race along across the interstate, paying you no attention.

“When the kids are a little older we should take them on a road trip.” You say.

Dirk smirks. “You know how hectic it is to travel with little kids?”

You smile. “But they’ll be so _excited_ and they’ll never forget it. We could take them to Crockerworks Studios or Disneyland.”

“Its also expensive as hell.”

“Not if you go with a large group. There’s fifty percent discount if you bring a group of ten or more. We can get a vacation package through AAA and stay at a family resorts.”

Dirk pauses and shrugs. “We could easily bring ten or more people with us but we should make sure the kids are toddlers. That way they’ll be easy to track down.”

“Are you talking about mine or your daughter, nephew, or grandchild?” 

Dirk frowns. “Dave and Jade are having a girl, we don’t know Khanie’s gender for sure, and as for the third, I seriously doubt Rose would get pregnant before college.”

“You’re going to have a daughter because of the irony of a little girl living in a house of manly men.”

Dirk laughs and you see his rare toothy smile. “Don’t invoke the irony god, Kankri,” he chuckles, “you know He has a terrible sense of humor.”

You smile back. “Maybe that’s why he’s the god of death too.”

Wind whistles over the highway, carrying with it the rotting smell of Aniline End, burning ethanol, and a friendly calm you’ve finally achieved with each other.


	3. if i shiver, please give me a blanket

**== >Kankri: Be Dirk again **

The rest of the day is spent driving around South New Jack, looking at the sights, talking about future plans, and landscaping ideas. When you return to the trailer park its early evening and the streets are empty of people but full of garbage and mud.

You pull up to Kankri’s trailer but the mutantblood hesitates to get out. He looks at you. “Can we make a promise?”

“Of what exactly?”

“I…” Uh oh, he’s hesitating. That’s never a good sign. Kankri mulls over the words and finally says, “I know I may act caliginous toward you but that could just be hormones. Jake and you have something…rare and magical and I don’t want to break that up for infatuation and I don’t want you to do the same. I know I mock your human marriages but I know they’re important to you, so I won’t push this or talk about it with anyone. Not even my moirail. I know not everyone is compatible with quadrants, not even certain trolls.”

You look at him and have no idea what to say. Also, your heart is beating really fucking fast. Why is it fucking doing that? “What about you and Kurloz? You’ve wanted each other for so long and now you think it was just a crush?”

“I told you I don’t _know_. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going into this with Kurloz because I’m trying to prove that I’m not afraid of clowns.”

“So,” you mutter, “what _do_ you want?”

“I want us to stay _friends_ , Dirk. I don’t want either of stop being friends. I know it sounds stupid but for the longest time I never had a friend. You know what its like when you spend all your time alone. You get desperate for _true honest to gods_ friendship. I want your friendship more than I want your caliginous affections. So please, _please_ promise me we’ll stay friends.”

“Of course, Kankri.” It difficult to talk because there’s a lump in your throat and your eyes hurt.

What the fuck is going on?

Kankri smiles and his eyes are watery. “Thank you, Dirk.”

He gets out and heads for his trailer. He looks happier than he has all week. You drive off. You have to return the car. You have to take it back to Weatherborn Lane and put up with Natryosha. You have to go back but you keep driving. You drive until you arrive in an abandoned neighborhood full of garbage and wild lusus. Questionable people sit in the shadows of empty trailers, waiting for their usual customers. Not even the street lights turn on here.

You park the car and turn off the engine and lights. You cover our face. You breathe slowly, count backwards in Old Alternian, take another deep breath, and then pull your hands from your face. Your palms are moist and you don’t know why.

It hits you a minute later: you were crying.

You want to smack yourself. You kill giant monsters for a living but Kankri’s… _feelings_ …made you feel emotionally overloaded and you had a panic attack.

This is how you reacted to Jake’s affections when you recognized how he felt about you. You panicked like how Dave panics at the sight of a corpse.

And your feelings toward Kankri are…?

You banish the thought. You scoop it up with a mental broom and dust pan and deposit it in the locked box. The locked box gets tossed in a dusty closet in your brain, which is _never_ to be opened. _Ever_.

“Its for the best.” you tell yourself, “Its for the best. Its for the best…”

You repeat the mantra until you’re certain of its truth.

 

You return the car and walk home. You pass by the wild dog-lusii chewing on the garbage mounds, swerving around the ones that look rabid. At home, the trailer is quiet and the truck is gone so Jake must be out shopping again. You hear a gun go off in the backyard but don’t hear any yelps of pain, so that’s a relief. You walk to the back and see Jade shooting at an arrangement of cans with a scowl on her face.

“Bad day?” you ask.

“You have _no_ idea.” Jade grunts.

“I thought Dave didn’t want you using firearms when you were pregnant?”

Jade doesn’t respond and shoots another beer can. You lean against the side of the trailer and fold your arms. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Its complicated.” Jade says, not looking at you.

“I’m not doing anything important.” Jade lowers the gun but doesn’t respond. “Listen, Dave and Karkat are both working and I get it. It sucks being stuck at home not doing anything when you were Ms. Amazon Attack, but you can’t let those feelings eat you up inside—”

“I know that!” Jade snaps, “I know I can’t internalize things because of the baby. Everything is about the fucking baby and that irritates me _more_. No one cares about my well being anymore. I can’t even go to work anymore because legal’s worried about the fumes and travel. They think I’ll press charges if something happens.”

“That’s a legit concern.” Jade glares at you. “I’m sorry but it _is_. New Jack is so anti-mutation crazy that there’s frivolous lawsuits all over. There’s a big class action lawsuit against the artificial ingredients in MacDonald’s food affecting fetuses. Its pointless but its gathering a lot of momentum among the needy and desperate.”

“That’s stupid.” Jade scowls. “Dave and I have accepted that our daughter is going to be severely mutated. We’d rather put our efforts toward learning to live with it and seeing if they have any needs.”

Dave hadn’t talked about the genescreening results so you knew it wouldn’t be good. The odds were weighed against the both of them given their genetic histories and living conditions. “Is that why you’re shooting cans like they’re someone’s head?”

Jade shakes her head. “No.” She looks at you. “Have you ever become friends with someone because you felt bad for them and then you…got to know them better…and realized they were a jerk and not in the kismesistude way? They were a…dick?”

You tilt your head. “Is this about Tavros?”

“No…” Jade looks down. “Its about Tsuris. He was my friend all during the time I was mad at Dave and Tavros was being a dick. But Tavros stopped being a dick and Dave and I made up so now Tsuris and me are at this _point_ and…”

You fill in the blanks for her. “There’s distance between you and him now that you have other people in your life and Dave already hates him.” It already spoke volumes when said friend didn’t show up at the funeral.

“Dave thinks he’s creepy,” Jade says, “and I don’t really think he’s creepy. He’s just socially stupid and he _likes_ me”—she sighs—“but I don’t feel that way. He said he wanted to be my moirail but I think he just wants to be _attached_ to me. So, I turned him down and he got irritated and we’ve sort of just been fighting since then.”

“Have you told Karkat and Dave?”

“No. Tavros knows about it but we’ve kept it to ourselves.” She sighs. “I think maybe we should break off our friendship.” She shuts her eyes. “I’ve moved on from him and he’s still growing up. He deserves to have other friends who are doing what he’s doing. I can’t really afford to be like _him_ anymore.”

“Careless?”

“A _kid._ ” Jade shrugs. “I can’t do any of the fun stuff anymore. I have work and a kid and bills and he doesn’t really understand.”

You walk over and pat Jade on the shoulder. “I think you should come inside and relax. Not just for the baby”—you add before she starts—“but because I think you’ve had a long day. It’ll be November and midterms next week.”

Jade nods and follows you inside. You decided that _someone_ has to watch over her now that her grandfather is gone and her mother deranged. Jade sits on the couch and you make dinner. Outside, you hear the car pull up and Jake walks into the room, carrying an armful of metal and other supplies from Hive Depot.

“Looks like you were busy.” You say.

“Just getting things to fortify the home with.” answers Jake. He dumps the items in the corner of the room to be assembled later and walks over, kissing you. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted.”

“Had a long day.” You look at your husband’s face, your heart beating faster. You should tell him what happened, what you’re thinking now, and how you feel.

You just force yourself to smile. “Just glad to see you.”

This is for the best.


End file.
